


the uneven path

by bereft_of_frogs



Series: part of our belongings (bad things happen bingo) [4]
Category: Into the Night (TV 2020)
Genre: (look I'm going to keep writing short whump in this small fandom I'm sorry), Bad Things Happen Bingo, Gen, Post-Season/Series 01, Whump, twisted ankle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2020-08-09
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:34:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25795204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bereft_of_frogs/pseuds/bereft_of_frogs
Summary: It's the apocalypse and little things like ankles twisted on an uneven path could be fatal.or: a misstep while searching for clues to a mystery leaves Sylvie in a tense position on a supply run.
Series: part of our belongings (bad things happen bingo) [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873021
Comments: 3
Kudos: 6
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	the uneven path

**Author's Note:**

> No warnings other than for a paper-thin plot. And the fact that I am just a humble writer who does not know how to fly neither planes nor helicopters. 
> 
> written for the Bad Things Happen Bingo: Twisted Ankle

The air is bitterly cold and clear. The moon is only half full, its light diffused by thin clouds and the trees. By the light of a single floodlight and some flashlights, Sylvie and Jakub bring supplies out from a bunker tucked into the Bulgarian woods.

“Okay.” Jakub flips through their checklist. “I think that’s all of it.”

Sylvie sets the last box down on top of the others and pulls the heavy iron door shut. “Do you think you can take it all back to the helicopter? Mathieu can help you load it from there.”

Jakub’s expression instantly darkens. “Why? Where are you going?”

“I have an errand.”

“An errand?”

She glances around, wary of the possibility that the supply stores have been bugged. She steps a little farther from the door. “I have a lead. Into our little _question_.” Understanding dawns on Jakub’s face. “Ayaz managed to copy a map he saw a couple days ago. He thinks they might be hiding something in the hillside, it corresponded to roughly where Laura said she saw that soldier coming down from on her last run. We downloaded it to Ines’s phone.”

“Are you sure?” Jakub asks.

“It may be our best lead,” she says. “Don’t you want to know what they’re hiding?”

“I do but…”

“If they keep sending their soldiers out with us, we might not get another chance. They trust us enough now, but who knows how long that will last.”

Jakub still doesn’t look pleased but he nods. “Okay. I’ll finish loading.”

Sylvie nods. “I’ll meet you back at the helicopter. Don’t worry, we’ll have plenty of time. I promise. Honestly I’ll probably be back before you finish up all this anyways.”

She leaves Jakub loading the boxes of supplies on the cart and makes her way to a path winding up the slope.

They’ve known for a long time - since the moment they arrived at the bunker, pretty much - that the NATO soldiers were hiding something from them. Of _course_ they were. It would have been surprising if they weren’t. They refused to tell them the location of the other bunkers, or how many others have survived. They gave only cursory answers to questions about the sun, about how much they knew, about the mysterious solutions they claim are in the works, or, most worrying, the cloudy missions the NATO commander says they’ll need them for. They just kept insisting that they should trust them, that everything would be made clear soon. But none of the passengers are particularly pleased with the secrecy, especially after the soldiers had so thoroughly interrogated them upon their arrival.

It had taken hours. The officers interrogated all that could stand it. They asked the same questions over and over, about how they knew each other, how they had survived for so long with just a passenger jet, checking for inconsistencies or revealing mistakes. They questioned her extensively about how she had come to be on board, her service record with the Air Force, how she’d landed the plane in Brussels. But when she’d asked how they’d survived, they had said nothing. She asked about who else could be out there, how many bunkers there could be, nothing but blank looks in response. The others report the same. Over the couple weeks since they’d arrived, they began to try and gather some evidence as to what secrets the soldiers were hiding. And look for opportunities to investigate.

Thus, Sylvie finds herself hiking up the side of the hill, glancing down at the map occasionally to keep her bearings. The slope is steeper than she expected, more uneven, but if you’re going to hide secret documents in a global catastrophe, why would you make it easy?

There’s a mark on a tree, illuminated by Sylvie’s flashlight. It looks fairly fresh, made with a sharp knife. X marks the spot. She stops, turning in a circle. The moonlight is filtered out by the trees, leaving just the beam of her flashlight. It takes a bit of searching, but Sylvie finds a small depression in the dirt. When she brushes up against it, she feels rusted metal.

_Yes._

The small locker contains a packet of pages in a folder. A moment’s hesitation. Does she take them with her, or try to photograph them here? A quick check of the time shows she’s not running late, so she takes out the phone - the one she’d borrowed from Ines, in case they asked to see hers when they returned to the bunker - and quickly tries to photograph as much as she can by the light of her flashlight. She’s sure some of the photos won’t be perfectly clear, but she works quickly and in a few minutes has saved copies of all the pages. She puts the file back together as close as she can get it to the way she found it and tucks it back into her hiding place.

Buoyed by her success, conscious of the time she used up photographing the pages and the need to return to the landing sight as soon as possible, Sylvie moves quickly down the slope. So quickly that her gait is careless. Too careless.

A small crater, left behind by a falling rock or digging animal, is all it takes. She’s not careful, moving too fast in the darkness, and steps awkwardly on the edge of the crate. She slips, more rocks and loose dirt giving way, and goes down hard on the slope of the hill.

Sylvie manages not to panic, to arrest her fall before she tumbles further off the path. She lays very still, catching her breath and feeling her heart beat fast in her chest. Her palms are scraped raw from catching herself, but she manages to pull herself up to more flat ground, to sit and shake off the shock. Her ankle pulses in pain. Experimentally, she moves it, gasping at the sharp stab that jolts through it. Breathing evenly, she tries carefully to get up, putting just a little pressure-

She stops with a yelp. Broken, sprained, she doesn’t know. She just knows that putting weight on it fucking hurts.

“Shit, _shit._ Oh, fuck. _”_ She takes a minute to breathe in through her nose, out through her mouth, as the stabbing pain fades. When she can think again, she feels around for her flashlight and radio. The flashlight she finds, but even by its beam she can’t find the radio. “Shit.”

She’s going to have to give up on the radio and try to make it down on her own. _Fuck._

Sylvie takes a deep breath before dragging herself to standing, leaning heavily on a tree and balancing on her uninjured leg. Another breath, in through her nose and out through her mouth.

Then she starts her slow walk down the hill.

Things do not go well.

Her ankle doesn’t take her weight at all. It hurts so badly that the pain drowns out any other feeling. Briefly, she thinks about the permanent damage she might be doing, and quickly sets that aside. She can’t think of that, not when she has to focus on getting back to their landing site.

She has to stop, leaning hard against a tree trunk. Her uninjured leg shakes from exhaustion. It seems like an impossible task to make it down the hill on time.

Not making it back is death for the others as well. A sharp, hysterical thought comes to her mind, that Mathieu will know what it felt like for her to land the plane in Brussels. He’ll be a bit better off than she was, they’ve at least had a few weeks of lessons. But, just as she knew then, she knows that flight, landing, and takeoff are all different beasts and it’s unlikely he’ll get them off the ground without her. No. If she doesn’t make it back, all three of them will perish when the sun rises.

Sylvie grits her teeth and, using the tree trunk, she drags herself back upright. She isn’t about to give up. Not after everything. Ankle-throbbing, screaming with every step, she starts again to slowly hobble along.

“That’s the last of it,” Jakub says. “I double checked their list, we got all they wanted. So, they should have nothing to complain about.”

“Good. Where’s Sylvie? Still securing the base?” Mathieu asks as he tightens the last buckle around the cargo.

Jakub freezes. “What, she hasn’t come back yet?”

Mathieu whips around fast. “You two went off together, why would she be with me?”

“She said…she said she’d come right back. Shit.” Jakub grabs his radio. “Jakub to Sylvie.” They wait a moment. Nothing but silence. “Jakub to Sylvie.”

“Shit.” Mathieu runs his hand through his hair and turns in a circle. “Shit. Where could she have gone?”

“I don’t know, she said she was going to check out a lead, something she thought the Bulgarians weren’t telling us. Ayaz had a map. She said she’d be back before I finished loading the supplies.”

“Did she show you the map?”

“Briefly, ah,” Jakub scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know. It was uphill, I can’t remember which direction.”

“Well, we’re not leaving her behind.”

“Of course we’re not leaving her behind,” Jakub snaps back. “Fuck, I’d never…” He takes a deep breath.

“Okay.” Mathieu takes a deep breath. “It was uphill, and out from the storage container. We spread out, stay in contact.”

“Right. I’ll take that hill.” Jakub is already heading towards the path when Mathieu calls after him.

“Be careful. And remember, we need three hours-”

“I know, I know.” Jakub glances at his watch. “I know.”

His heart is pumping. He feels the return of that panicked anxiety that marked all their landings when they were still on the run, that frantic knowledge of how long they have before the sun rises, what’s at stake if they run out of time. But he has to find Sylvie.

Time is on her mind. Calculations, how long it will take to fly back, how long it will take to get down the hill. She tries to push herself forward, as fast as she can. She can’t let them down, can’t doom Mathieu and Jakub, not when they’ve all come so far.

When she collapses for the fourth time, there is a second when she wants to give up. Throw in the towel, cry until the sun rises and takes her. It will be hard, but Mathieu is a good pilot. But she presses on, dragging herself up. Because she knows, even if Mathieu is able to fly off without her, he wouldn’t and Jakub wouldn’t let him. Jakub still bears the guilt of what happened to Gabrielle, he wasn’t about to leave her behind. He tracked down her apartment in Brussels, for God’s sake, he’s sure not about to just leave her here.

So she has to make it down, even with her ankle growing more painful by the second.

She nearly sobs when she hears the voice calling her name.

The voice in the distance calls out again. “Sylvie!” Distinctly Jakub’s voice, calling her name.

“Here!” She nearly sobs in relief, but holds it back. “I’m here!” She sees the bob of his flashlight farther along the trail. She stops, leaning against a tree. “Here!” She waves her flashlight.

“Mathieu, I found her,” Jakub says into his radio. “God, Sylvie, I’ve been looking for you for half an hour. What the hell happened?”

She laughs. “I tripped in a hole.”

“What?”

“I tripped, and dropped my radio. My ankle’s fucked.” Her whole leg is shaking now, from shock or exertion. She gasps, leaning heavier on the tree. Jakub moves next to her, quickly stowing his radio in his back pocket and ducking under her arm to take her weight. “Thanks.”

“It’s nothing. Come on, we have to get back.” They hobble forward a few steps, then Jakub scoops his other arm under her knees. Being carried is undignified, embarrassing, but it’s faster. It will get them back to the landing site faster.

“Can you fly the helicopter?” Jakub asks, voice tight with tension.

She nods. “I think so. I have to. Fuck.” She grits her teeth. “How long do we have? I lost track of time.”

“Plenty of time, plenty of time. We got this, don’t worry about it.” Jakub is sweating a little, carrying her down the hill. “And we should have a first aid kit. If we brace it, and give you something for the pain...”

She nods. “I can do it.” _Probably._ Turns are going to be interesting. But it’s a fairly straight shot back to the bunker, they shouldn’t need to turn too much. The most concerning part will be take off and landing, keeping the tail rotor stable, but Mathieu should be able to take some of that work. “I feel foolish.”

“Don’t. It happens to everyone. When we’re back to the bunker, remind me to tell you about the time I dislocated my knee at summer camp.”

Sylvie manages to laugh. “I will.”

Jakub picks his way carefully down the path and before long, they’re back at the flat landing site, where Mathieu paces anxiously before the helicopter.

“What happened? Are you all right?”

Jakub sets her carefully down on the edge of the helicopter, Mathieu steadies her from the other side with a hand on her shoulder.

“Lost my footing, stupid fucking mistake.” Sweat drips down the back of her neck. “We can’t waste any more time, we need to go-”

Mathieu shakes his head. “We have time, it’s all right.”

“I’ll grab the first aid kit. There’s at least an ice pack, might be a brace.” Jakub disappears into the cockpit.

“How long? How long do we have?” Now that she’s sitting, the adrenaline is really starting to drain away. Her ankle throbs. Her teeth nearly chatter as she trembles from shock and the chill in the air.

“Thirty minutes, forty before we absolutely have to depart but that will be cutting it close.”

Sylvie nods, leaning back against the cargo they’d loaded. “Shit, that was stupid. I could have gotten us all killed.”

Mathieu just shrugs. “You fell. It was an accident.”

“We don’t have the luxury to have accidents these days.”

Jakub returns, popping an ice pack. “I even found some ibuprofen. Hold this.” She props her leg up on the side and drapes the ice pack over it. It feels like relief. Jakub gives her a couple pills and a bottle of water. After ten minutes or so of icing the swollen joint, while they try to distract her Jakub helps her wrap it with a bandage.

“Thanks,” Sylvie says. “For coming after me.”

Mathieu gives her a look. “After all that, you think we’re going to leave you behind?” He nods towards the cockpit. “Are you ready to fly?”

Sylvie tests the motion. It works, so her ankle probably isn’t broken. Weight still hurts, but she can take a little pressure so she nods. “Our turns might not be very smooth. And I have to do takeoff”

Mathieu smiles. “Get us in the air and I’ll take over?”

Sylvie nods. “Okay.”

“Let’s go then. There will be ice and more painkillers back at the bunker.” Jakub holds out his hand.

“Excellent. That sounds _excellent_.” Sylvie is exhausted. She just wants to get this over with and return to the bunker and sleep the day away. Hopefully with some assistance from the medics’ stores.

They help her into the cockpit and Jakub hops in the back and buckles in. They start up the rotors.

Through the headset, Mathieu asks. “Did you find anything?”

Sylvie grins. “I did.”

“Good.”

Takeoff hurts, she has to grit her teeth as they lift into the air. But once they’re at a stable flight level she doesn’t need the pedals as much and Mathieu is able to take over. By this point, they’re a well-practiced team. As they fly through the night air, Sylvie feels a rush of relief. There could have been catastrophe, but there wasn’t, and they’re now on their way back to certain safety. They’re going to be okay, at least for now. The future’s uncertain, but maybe with the pictures in her pocket, the pictures she nearly paid too dearly for, some things will start to become more clear, the mystery unraveled just a bit more.

**Author's Note:**

> A semi-amusing anecdote: I was working on this, and deep into the internet trying to figure out how to fly a helicopter (I have never even been in a helicopter), and getting a bit frustrated, one started circling around the city above me and I just looked out the window and grumbled, "How do I fly you?" 
> 
> All that to say, I apologize for any errors! I'm doing my best with the internet research. I've had an interest in aviation for a while, but that always ran more towards the airplane variety, rather than helicopters so I was kind of starting from scratch.
> 
> As always, I offer this fic into the fandom void, but if you're out there reading, drop a kudos/comment, [come talk to me on tumblr](https://bereft-of-frogs.tumblr.com/), etc. So I know I'm not drifting alone out here <3


End file.
